Audubon County Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Audubon Co., Iowa) 1885-1894, 1887-05-05
The ramps Sacrifice.

days labor in the harvest field, BY
watching the people who passed on the
road. They all bowed or spoke to him
no man in the town was more highly
respected or better known. He was its
Supervisor, and deacon of the church
over the hill; he owned an hundred
acres of valuable land, which he work
ed himself, and the pretty frame house
just beh nd him. His wife was at this
time sitting on the piazza, and their
only child, Winnie, was racing up and
down it. somewhat boisterous with the
high spirits of oh ldhood. The family
and the help had eaten supper, and
all were enjoying in their own way the
beautiful summer hour between sunset
and darkness.
Wellington Seymour was forty-six
years old. His hands were hard with
toll; for, though rich and prosperous,
he was one of those who deem manual
labor diyinely imposed duty. He was
bronzed and sunburned with exposure;
and the tr ais and duties of life. as well
us its sorrows, had given grave and
thoughtful aspect to his face. An OBJ
server would have added ten years to
his real age. The few people in such
rural ncghborhOod as this who were
accustomed 10 study character by the
features had seen that there was some
thing more than gravity in Mr.. Sey
mour's face. There was Il rcStlcSSness
! about his eye. Sometimes he started
upon hear ne an unfamiliar voice.
While the fact had not become sub
jcct of remark, it had certainly been
noticed by these few that Mr.. Seymour
did not often appear to be at case.
As he continued to stand at his gate,
man passed by on foot who neither
bowed nor spoke to him. He was a
stranger, clothed in tatt,red and dusty
garments. He walked slowly past,
us ng long staff, and appearing very
much fat gued. His hair and beard
were long and unkcmpt; his face bore
the unmistakable marks of dissipation
and excess. He was. in short, tramp;
one of class which Mr.. Seymour
hated-or would have hated had his
christian principles allowed such feel
ing. He looked coidly at the man as
he went by, merely observing that he
was a tramp, without tax ng part cular
note of his face He did not see that
the man stared hard at him, after he
had turned his eyes from the unpleas-
ant object. The man walked Il rod
past the gate, and then suddenly wheel
ed and came back He stood right in
front of the farmer and leaned heavily
on his staff
Sir" he said, II am very tired and
very hungry. Will you feed me and
lodge me to-night?'
You look like Il tramp the farmer
replied "You know the penalties you
are liable to suffer"
Yes, | know" the wayfarer cried.
His dark eyes snapped viciously, and
there was ring to his vo &c that start
led Mr. Seymour IL am an quito Ist.
an lshmaelite-nOt because | am vi
cious, but because | am Vicious and
poor. The law makes it an otlense to
be poor, if you are bad. Perhaps it is
right; but | am too much exhausted
now even TO talk about such things.
appeal to you rs man to help a fell
bowman in distress. Twenty-Five miles
have | walked to day; nothing have |
eaten since noon. have been refused
relief at half 4 dozen farm houses, and
whipped off from wagons where l tried
to get rest for my poor bru sed feet
Welfare you heartless, too?"
Those piercing black eyes were fixed
on the farmers face, with an expires
sion that haunts him to this day. A
very brief struggle in his breast ended
by his throwing open the gate.
Come in, poor fellow" he said.
I'll take care of you II tomorrow.
The tramp entered. A few words
from the farmer to his wife explained
the matter TO her. and she went TO the
kitchen to provide something for the
poor waif to eat. The man went to
the pump. washed himself, brushed off
the dust, and then went into the kitch-
en- and sat down to the table. The
meal that he ate may have its parel-
lei among those of his k nd; the Sey-
mour homestead had certainly never
witnessed such consumption of provis-
ions by one person. While he was eat
ing, little Winnie came into the kitch-
en-, and, W tn the confidence that is
natural W tn some children. went up to
him and laid her hand on his arm. He
looked at her kindly.
What is Your name. little oneP' he
asked.
"Winifred. They call me Winnie,
for short"
He wiped his mouth and, most I'M
romantic in this come ton, but GER
tainly true, there was tear in his eve
WHICH bC hiSllOu WIN llC
of his hand. OF what could he be think
ing? Perhaps. of his own youthful
DAYS of innocence; perhaps, of words
read long ago, but lately forgotten
for of such is the kingdom of heav-
en-"
Would You kiss me. Winnie?"
She looked up into his face, bearded
face, and found very tender expires,
sion in his eyes. and she kissed him
without hesitation.
The mothers heart was also soften,
ed by this little episode; so when the
man had finished his meal, she said tc
him:
81 will make you up 4 bed on the
floor. in the room above tbs"
You are very kind, ma am" he re-
piled, but, really, | don't think
could sleep in a made up bed. 81
many years as I've slept in hammock
at sea, and on the ground under tn,
trees in foreign lands. and in the fence
corners and in hay-lofts in my owl
! ,n,n,.,. bnrn ;,gt about -.